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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25580698">Waltz</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindorhearts/pseuds/gryffindorhearts'>gryffindorhearts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Training, Aurors, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, Eventual Romance, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Not Epilogue Compliant, Original Character(s), POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, Worldbuilding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:46:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,009</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25580698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindorhearts/pseuds/gryffindorhearts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>During his second year of Auror training, Harry Potter finds himself in a delicate dance with friends and enemies alike. Harry thought things would be easier after the war — he’s about to realize how spectacularly wrong he was.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Beta'd by the wonderful underthesamestars!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>PROLOGUE</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>July 25, 1998</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Wizengamot, Ministry of Magic</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>London, England</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>There was a blur of purple robes in front of him, Draco realized distantly. </p><p>And voices. Lots of voices, layered with the whirs of cameras flashing, the scratches of quills on parchment. </p><p>He felt himself sway, and then felt a pang of sudden nausea roil in his gut. For a few seconds, he thought he might empty what little food he’d managed to eat over the last day. He gripped the sides of his chair to steady himself. From the outside, he was sure he looked as calm and composed as ever, despite the ghostly pallor to his skin. </p><p>On the inside, he felt like a man who was running out of time. </p><p>
  <em>This might be the last time I set foot in London. On solid land, even. </em>
</p><p>“Please state your full name to the court.”</p><p>“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” he answered in his cut-glass accent. </p><p>“And your age.”</p><p>“Eighteen.”</p><p>The Chief Warlock turned to face the courtroom, “Draco Lucius Malfoy is accused of practicing the Dark Arts, attempting murder, and performing Unforgiveable Curses. He was a Marked and active member of the Death Eaters. Are you aware of these charges?”</p><p>“Yes.” Wizengamot trials were known to be brief and concise. Draco doubted that his would take very long at all – certainly less than an hour – since the evidence against him was so staggering. He felt heavy, like the weight of the war and all his wrongdoings were settling upon his shoulders at once. He wanted to lower his head, curl in on himself, hide from the dozens and dozens of eyes fixated on him. </p><p><em>Malfoys do not </em>slouch<em>, Draco. We must always keep ourselves held tall</em>. He forced himself to square his shoulders and straighten his back, his eyes gazing ahead unseeingly. He forced himself not to think about how his inner voice still sounded an awful lot like Lucius.</p><p>The Wizengamot, meanwhile, brought forth their evidence: indisputable facts that they laid plainly in front of him and the rest of the court. There was, quite frankly, very little room to argue with their claims. </p><p>Draco felt his throat burn with sadness, and he closed his eyes briefly. For just a few short seconds, he allowed himself to feel every curse he ever cast, every wicked thing he had ever thought. He allowed himself to feel his strings being pulled like the puppet he had been. He allowed himself to hear his father’s voice – <em>Good, Draco. Perfect. Well done, my boy</em>– and a chill ran up his spine as he heard Voldemort’s voice, too, promising certain death if Draco turned out to be just like his Pariah of a father.</p><p>It had all felt so easy.</p><p>It had all been so foolish. </p><p>“For the court’s record,” the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot said, “you have been nothing but honest and cooperative during this process, Mr. Malfoy. You have even freely given up information on Death Eaters in hiding.”</p><p>Draco opened his eyes. <em>Would it be enough? </em>It hadn’t been enough for Lucius, who was currently en route to the North Sea. </p><p>“We don’t want these actions to go unrecognized, however… I’m not sure if we are convinced of your innocence yet. We are now calling the last witness to the stand.”</p><p>He heard a door open somewhere behind him, and footsteps echoed around the chamber as the witness made his way to the front of the room. Draco felt like he was underwater, or in a dream. All his senses felt suddenly muddled. <em>Another witness</em>? He hadn’t been expecting this. </p><p>The witness sat down in front of the Wizengamot. Oh. <em>Of course. </em></p><p>The Chief Warlock continued, “Please state your full name to the court.”</p><p>“Harry James Potter.” </p><p>“And your age.”</p><p>“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen next week.”</p><p>“And your relation to Draco Malfoy?”</p><p>“We were schoolmates, at Hogwarts.”</p><p>Harry Potter, the Wizarding World’s Golden Boy, held Draco’s life in his very hands. The influence Potter had right now at the Ministry was insurmountable. <em>He could politely ask them to send me to Azkaban and they wouldn’t even put it up for a vote</em>, he thought cynically. Draco kept his eyes fixed ahead. </p><p>Harry gave his testimony: How Draco had faltered on the Astronomy tower. How Dumbledore had indeed planned his own death. How Narcissa Malfoy had saved Harry’s life in the Forbidden Forest. How Draco had aided Harry’s escape from the Manor. And, inexplicably, how Harry had chosen to pull Draco from the fire. </p><p>Most of it was already public knowledge, but nevertheless, Harry recounted his version of events earnestly and solemnly, as if it was the first time he’d ever processed everything out loud.   </p><p>“And why did you do that, Mr. Potter?”</p><p>“Do what?”</p><p>“Pull the Accused from the fire?”</p><p>“Because he… he didn’t deserve to die. I couldn’t just leave him there, to die in the fire.” Potter huffed, clearly irked, “Listen, I don’t think Malfoy is a good person. At all. But he’s not a killer. And I don’t think he belongs in Azkaban.”</p><p>“And why not?”</p><p> “I don’t think he had much of a choice. In the end, his only loyalty during the war had been to his family. All he cared about was making sure he stayed alive, even if that meant being selfish and cruel.”</p><p>Another camera flashed. Some reporter trying to get a front page shot for tomorrow’s <em>Prophet, </em>no doubt<em>. </em>Draco didn’t flinch. Instead, he clenched his hands into fists, letting his nails dig into his palms, hoping the sharp pain would quell the tremors that threatened to wrack his body. </p><p>Potter was… going to save his life right now, wasn’t he? <em>The fucker.</em></p><p>A part of him wanted to shake Potter by the shoulders and say <em>don’t do it.</em></p><p>“I don’t think he should go to Azkaban,” Potter’s voice was steady, with only the slightest tinge of emotion. “If only because he saved my life, and so did his mother, and those actions certainly changed the course of the War.”  </p><p>Another part of him wanted to cry in relief at the prospect of freedom and forgiveness. </p><p><em>Potter is not forgiving you. No one is forgiving you. That’s not what this is</em>, he had to remind himself. <em>This is just politics</em>. </p><p>“Thank you, Mr. Potter, for your words. Mr. Malfoy, do you wish to call any last witnesses to the stand?”</p><p>“No, sir.” </p><p>With a nod, the Chief Warlock faced the rest of the Wizengamot. Draco’s eyes brushed across the crowd, and his vision was full again of purple robes. </p><p>“All in favor of convicting Draco Lucius Malfoy.”</p><p>About a dozen or so hands slowly rose. </p><p>“All in favor of releasing Draco Lucius Malfoy.”</p><p>About twice as many hands shot up this time, and he allowed his composure to slip just slightly, and breathed a sigh of relief. </p><p>“Mr. Malfoy, we do not take your crimes lightly. Be thankful you were a minor during most of the war. And be thankful I am choosing to clear your criminal record on all accounts, due to that. You will remain at Malfoy Manor, on house arrest with your mother, for the rest of the summer. You will return to Hogwarts and finish your final year of schooling. And please note that if I hear word of even the slightest misdemeanor, I assure you, I will not hesitate to make you stand trial again. Do you agree to these terms?”</p><p>“Yes,” the answer rushed out of him quickly, more of a gush of air than anything else, “I agree.”</p><p>“I think,” said the Chief Warlock, “based on Mr. Potter’s testimony, that there is still some unextinguished good at the heart of you. Yet I would advise you not to waste this second chance. A Third chance will certainly not arrive if you do. Now, all rise.”</p><p>With a wave of the Chief Warlock’s wand, the court was dismissed. Draco was escorted to the Floo by two Aurors, away from the flashes of cameras, to be sent directly to the Manor. With green flames licking at him, with the pull of the fire tugging him away, he glanced around the room desperately, taking it all in one last time. <em>I thought I was going to die here, today</em>. He searched for Potter’s face, or his retreating back, or even the slightest hint of him.  </p><p>But he’d already left the room.</p><p><em>Just politics,</em> he reminded himself. The Manor materialized in front of him. And his Mother was waiting there, in the sitting room, biting back a sob of her own relief as she rushed over to him, running long fingers through his hair. </p><p>“My Dragon,” she said. “Welcome home."</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>CHAPTER ONE</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>September 1, 2000</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>The Department of Magical Law Enforcement Auror Academy </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Nettlewood Hall, Somerset, England</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Auror training robes were made of a thick material, and nicely tailored. In all honesty, they were rather flattering on everyone. The fabric was a deep crimson color –  <em>So blood doesn’t show as easily</em>, Bagnold had once said. Harry liked the way he looked in the uniform. But these days, the crimson robes were more of a formality than anything else, mostly worn on special occasions and for Ministry events. In the field, fully fledged Aurors wore whichever robes or outfits suited their missions best. And the trainees, while in-session at the Academy, were required to wear modest, utilitarian clothes and plain robes, mostly in neutral or dark colors. </p>
<p>But Harry liked it when they got to wear their crimson robes. It reminded him he was a part of something bigger. That, in just two more years, he would be joining the ranks of some of the most talented wizards and witches Britain had ever seen. It was no small occasion, being accepted into the Auror Academy.</p>
<p>Head Auror Robards handed each of the Year Ones a set of robes, shaking their hands as he went, muttering quick <em>welcomes </em>and <em>congratulations </em>as he walked down the line of them. Harry caught Hermione’s eye next to him and she smiled at him warmly, entwining their hands together. “That was us last year,” she said softly, “I still remember feeling like I’d been struck with a jelly-leg jinx, I was so nervous.” </p>
<p>“Now look at us, we’re strictly the middle of the food chain,” he grinned. </p>
<p>“I hear second year’s the hardest.”</p>
<p>“Why so?”</p>
<p>“Well, we start our field exercises this year. A lot of trainees don’t do so well with that at first, I guess. And <em>you’ll </em>have to pass your Poisons and Antidotes course,” Hermione bumped her shoulder into his, “which will be no small feat, I’m sure.” </p>
<p>He groaned, “Circe, I’d drop the damn course if it wasn’t required. It’s all potions theory, the way Auror Sharma teaches it.”</p>
<p>She squeezed his hand, “I take it you won’t be signing up for Advanced Battlefield Brewing next semester, then?” Harry only rolled his eyes in response. “I talked to Ron yesterday, by the way. He’s really proud of you.”</p>
<p>Harry felt the corners of his mouth turn down unwittingly, “I wish he was here.”</p>
<p>“He sounds a lot healthier,” she looked away from Harry, then, her eyes following Robards as he shook hands with the last few Year Ones in line. “You should talk to him. He misses you. You should tell him you’re proud of him, too.”</p>
<p>Harry wanted to feel proud of Ron, he really did. But after Ron decided to quit the Auror training program halfway through their first year, to help George out with his business… well, it had added a new strain and stress to their friendship. One that Harry often felt guilty of, because it was mostly his own fault. But for some reason, reconciling with Ron felt a whole lot harder than reconciling with the mixed feelings that had laid such heavy roots in his chest, and in the end, he had decided to do neither. </p>
<p>Harry let go of Hermione’s hand, then, and clapped and whooped along with the rest of the Aurors as they cheered on the newly initiated trainees. He was glad the other Year Twos around him were creating such a ruckus, so that his own disheartened cheers wouldn’t be heard above the rest. Sometimes –  if he was feeling brave enough to be honest with himself – he knew his conflicted feelings about Ron were just jealousy. He wished he could walk away from the Aurors, but that was not in the cards for him. This path was decided for him long ago. And even more than that, he didn’t know what he would do if he did.</p>
<p>And that thought was somehow even more disappointing.  </p>
<p>Head Auror Robards cleared his throat, and cast a quick sonorus charm, “<em>Ignorantia juris neminem excusat!” </em>The Ministry’s motto. “Please, let’s raise our wands in congratulations to our new recruits. May this be a successful year ahead for you all!” Harry felt his wand pressing against his forearm, in the holster that was sewn into his sleeve, and he wiggled it free and into his hand. Together, everyone lifted their wands and sent sparks and confetti into the sky. </p>
<p>Harry smiled and tousled his hair, trying to shake some of the glitter out of it, and turned back to Hermione. “I think I’m going to get a glass of fire whisky, do you want anything?” </p>
<p>“No, I think I’m going to get to bed early. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Night, then, ‘Mione. See you at breakfast?” </p>
<p>Hermione nodded, and made to say something else, before she went still. “Oh,” her eyes widened ever so slightly, “I didn’t think he was going to come back this year.”</p>
<p>Harry whipped his head around, and caught a flash of blonde hair from across the gardens. </p>
<p>Malfoy. </p>
<p>“I thought he was suspended?” Hermione asked, shaking her head, “He didn’t come back after winter term.”</p>
<p>Leo Leddy, a fellow Second Year – and Harry’s roommate – leaned into their conversation and said, “They re-admitted him after he was found innocent of… well, you know. All that stuff that happened last year. I heard Auror Sharma tutored him over the summer, caught him up in time to join the rest of us.”</p>
<p>Harry felt his stomach drop, “Merlin. I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with him at all this year. I was looking forward to it, really.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry,” Leo piped in again, “I think he’s planning on laying especially low. At least, that’s what I’d do if I were in his shoes.”</p>
<p>“Since when does Malfoy ever do what everyone else wants?” Harry muttered. </p>
<p>“Oh, come on, Harry,” Leo said, clapping a hand on his back, “just ignore him. Everyone else does it just fine.”</p>
<p>“That’s a bit like asking the sun not to shine, don’t you think?” Hermione quipped. </p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Leo said, his black eyebrows furrowing.</p>
<p>“Never mind,” Hermione said. “Goodnight you two. Don’t have too much fire whisky! Remember,” she pointed a finger at Harry, “First day of classes. Tomorrow. First thing.” </p>
<p>“Yup, yup.” Harry slung an arm around Leo’s shoulder, and walked them towards the floating trays of desserts and drinks. “Leo, you don’t happen to be very good at potions theory, do you?”</p>
<p>“I’m utter rubbish.”</p>
<p>“Me too. Urg. I think this year is truly going to be the death of me.” Harry took a glass from one of the trays that floated right by him, and threw it back. He winced a bit at the burn, and Leo smiled at the pained expression on his face.  </p>
<p>“Now, Harry, why do you say that?”</p>
<p>“Just a feeling, is all.” Across the garden, he saw Malfoy talking to Auror Sharma. He was long and elegant, dressed in all black with a collar that rose high against his throat. His hair had grown since Harry last saw him. Draco lifted his slender fingers and pushed a strand or two out of his face.</p>
<p>He was marble. Sharp edges, emotionless. A statue someone had accidentally breathed life into. A statue that, just last year, had been accused of a slew of different crimes, robberies, and assassination attempts. And, apparently, had been found completely innocent and was allowed to rejoin their ranks as if nothing had happened at all. </p>
<p>Harry narrowed his eyes at the other man, taking a sip of his drink again.</p>
<p>From across the crowd, Malfoy lifted his head, and grey met green in a steady gaze. Mockingly – and <em>Merlin,</em> it was so irksome, how the other man got so immediately under his skin like this – Malfoy lifted his own glass into the air, miming a toast, and took a sip. </p>
<p>“You bastard,” Harry muttered. </p>
<p>“I—I’m sorry, what?” Leo said, flabbergasted, spinning around to face Harry. </p>
<p>“Not you,” Harry said, shaking his head frantically, trying to clear it. “Come on, Leo. Let’s go see if we can find some treacle tart.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Poisons and Antidotes, was, of course, his first class of the term. And Harry, of course, was woefully unprepared for it. </p>
<p>Auror Sharma was one of the most intense instructors at the academy. Her hair was coarse and black, and plaited neatly into a braid that reached her lower back, a braid which carefully concealed her few grey hairs. Sharma was no older than her late thirties or early forties, with warm, brown skin and even darker brown eyes. There was an air of impenetrable authority that surrounded her always, and it didn’t take much effort for her to command a room as soon as she walked into it. </p>
<p>But even more than all of that, she was lively and bright. Harry could feel her strong magic around her, and it seemed to charge the room with a sparkling energy. She stood in front of them, perfectly poised, with an easy smile across her lips. Harry tried to sit a little taller. </p>
<p>“I hope you all enjoyed your summer breaks,” she said, “and I hope you all enjoyed the summer reading I’d assigned.”</p>
<p>Harry paled at that, and looked to Leo, who was sitting next to him. He mouthed silently, “Summer reading?” Leo only shrugged. </p>
<p>“Potter, Leddy,” Sharma called from across the room, “Is there a question you’d like to ask me?”</p>
<p>“Uh,” Harry stammered, “No, no not really.”</p>
<p>“Not really?” </p>
<p>“No, Auror Sharma.” Leo clarified, “Sorry to interrupt.”</p>
<p>He could hear a few faint snickers from the rows in front of him.  </p>
<p>“Thank you for answering concisely, Leddy.” Sharma said, then turned to the blackboard and spelled the chalk to start writing questions across it. “Now, from the assigned reading, I’ve pulled together a few questions that I’d like you all to answer.” </p>
<p>Harry adjusted his glasses and looked at the board, as if that would help him understand at all what it said. Why should <em>Ashwinder eggshells </em>not be substituted for <em>Ashwinder scales </em>in the following brews… why must <em>Paralyzing Philters </em>be stored at room temperature…. name the three main reasons you should never administer a <em>Draught of the Dying Man </em>to an actual dying man…</p>
<p>Harry shook his head a little at the board, “Merlin, help me.”</p>
<p>While scrambling to write made-up answers that sounded at least half-decent, Harry couldn’t help but look around the room and notice that Malfoy was missing. Hermione wasn’t in this class because she had elected to take it next semester instead. But Harry thought that maybe—</p>
<p>“Trainee Potter,” Sharma’s voice called from the front of the room, “Would you please share your answer for question one with the rest of the class?”</p>
<p>Harry gulped. Oh, Merlin and Morgana. This day was not off to a good start, was it? </p>
<p>… </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In all truth, the day did not get much better from there. </p>
<p>Wandless Combat was his next course, and one that Harry was genuinely excited to attend. It was taught by Auror Bagnold, a stocky man who had thick, textured scars that ran down the left side of his brow bone, cheek, and neck before disappearing underneath the collar of his robes. He was tall. <em>At least a head or two taller than Ron, even,</em>Harry thought. But, compared to Sharma, he had an easy air around him, though he was no less powerful and captivating when standing in front of them. </p>
<p>With a wave of his hand, a dozen or so chairs appeared in the room, which was otherwise large and completely empty. “Everyone, please take a seat,” Bagnold said. “Welcome to Wandless Combat. Starting next class, you will leave your wands in the box by the door. There will be no magic allowed in here during our time together, unless it is cast by myself and myself alone. As an Auror, you will be a member of an elite unit of highly-trained, specialist officers. But you will not be perfect. Missions will go wrong. And that’s what this course is for. For those missions where fighting without your wand is a necessity, where it could mean certain death if you are not properly prepared. And most importantly—”</p>
<p>The door opened suddenly, echoing across the room with a <em>clang</em>. Harry’s breath hitched in his throat, and he turned in his seat to look at the sorry soul who was foolish enough to walk into Bagnold’s class a whole ten minutes late. </p>
<p>In the doorway, Malfoy looked like he was trying to catch his breath. There was a shallow cut across one of his cheekbones, and his eyes scanned the room quickly, going a little wide as the pieces seemed to click together in his mind. In a matter of mere seconds, though, Malfoy straightened his back and steeled his expression. A few Year Twos to Harry’s left tried to muffle their laughter behind the sleeves of their robes. But Malfoy was wholly unreadable. Stoic. It was a little scary to watch, Harry couldn’t help but think. Malfoy had such perfect control over his emotions.</p>
<p>It was an admirable trait for an Auror to have. </p>
<p>It was what probably had made him a great Death Eater, too. </p>
<p>Malfoy merely lifted his chin, and made to shut the door noiselessly behind him as he entered the room. A sting of satisfaction came over Harry as he turned back around and caught the annoyed look on Bagnold’s face.</p>
<p>“Ah, I see… Trainee Malfoy, how nice of you to finally grace us with your presence.” The lines around Bagnold’s eyes hardened, “I was wondering if I’d miscounted the chairs when I conjured them earlier.” </p>
<p>Malfoy said nothing, only nodded his head politely and sat down in the only empty chair left in the room, which happened to be next to Harry’s. He couldn’t help but notice the slight twitch to Malfoy’s jaw— a small, nearly undetectable tell of the other man’s annoyance.  </p>
<p>“Now, then… where were we? Ah, yes. The importance of being prepared.” Auror Bagnold shot Malfoy one last look, and the entendre was lost on no one. Harry couldn’t help the breathy chuckle that escaped his lips. Malfoy paid him no attention. He only took out a parchment and quill, and began to diligently copy Bagnold’s lecture. </p>
<p>Maybe this day wasn’t so bad, after all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>…</p>
<p>           </p>
<p>After catching up with Hermione over dinner that night, Harry made his way to Sharma’s office. He hoped she was still there, and that he might catch her before she left for the night. He was still embarrassed about earlier, and thought maybe a sincere apology would go a long way with her. Maybe it could mend the horrible first impression he’d given her. </p>
<p>Her door was slightly ajar, soft lamp light spilling from its open crack. Harry took a steadying breath, but held himself still as he heard her talking with another student.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I missed your class this morning.” That was Malfoy’s voice.</p>
<p>Before thinking twice about what he was doing, Harry cast a wordless concealment charm over himself, and held completely still. </p>
<p>“That’s why I asked to meet with you. I was concerned. Did something happen?”</p>
<p>“Well, I find it rather hard to make it to class on time when I’m at the receiving end of a <em>petrificus totalus</em>.” </p>
<p>“Draco…” Auror Sharma shook her head. <em>Were they on a first name basis with one another?</em> “You must tell Robards. We can’t have our recruits hexing each other unprovoked like this. It… was unprovoked, correct?”</p>
<p>“Of course!”</p>
<p>“Really, Draco. Tell him. He’ll have to do something about it if he knows. It would be horrible if word got out. <em>The Prophet</em> would splash it one column or another. Our program is trying so desperately to rebuild its reputation right now, they’ll lap up even the smallest of missteps from our Aurors. Even if… even if it’s an ex-Death Eater amongst our ranks getting hexed around.”</p>
<p>“Technically, after the war, because I was a minor the Ministry declared me—”</p>
<p>“Draco, I don’t mean to misspeak. But you know what I mean.”</p>
<p>“If the program cares so much about its <em>reputation</em>,” he spat the word, “They wouldn’t have let me join in the first place.”</p>
<p>“But here you are. We chose you, and now you’re nearly at the top of your class. And, I don’t mean to upset you, Draco, but you chose to join, and you <em>chose</em> to come back. No one made you do that.”</p>
<p>“After this morning, I’m having second thoughts.”</p>
<p>“You can’t mean that.”</p>
<p>A pause. Malfoy sighed, “No, I don’t. I want to be here. But… it’s so hard. For me. You know that.”</p>
<p>“I do. That’s why I asked to check on you this evening. Besides being petrified and missing my class, how did the rest of your day go?”</p>
<p>“I’m not in the mood for small talk or pleasantries. If it’s alright with you, I’d rather collect the work I missed and just go to bed. My neck is still rather stiff from this whole ordeal.” </p>
<p>“Fine,” Harry heard the rustling of papers. “And you won’t talk to Robards?”</p>
<p>A short, cold laugh. Harry wondered what Malfoy’s face looked like right then, and wished he could lean through the doorway and look, but he didn’t want to risk shifting his feet and being heard. “Talk to Robards? And accomplish what, exactly? He’ll be so disappointed to know that all it took was new student without so much as a single day of training behind them, casting a spell most wizards learn when they’re <em>eleven, </em>to render me helpless. I think not. Besides… I don’t need to stir any more cauldrons that don’t need stirring.”</p>
<p>“Fine. But please, if this becomes an issue—”</p>
<p>“It won’t.”</p>
<p>A sigh from Auror Sharma, “Here’s your papers, then. I’ll see you next class, Trainee Malfoy.” </p>
<p>Chair legs screeched across the floor, and Harry imagined Malfoy was standing to collect his things. A ruffle of robes, and suddenly Malfoy was at the door, nearly standing right on top of Harry. Pressing himself against the wall, Harry held his breath. There was a long pause, and he wondered what Malfoy was waiting for, when suddenly, quietly, the other man turned to Auror Sharma and said, “Thank you.” </p>
<p>With a quick nod of his head, Malfoy disappeared around the corner and out of sight. </p>
<p>Auror Sharma stood and walked to the doorway of her office, staring down the hallway in the general direction of Malfoy’s departure, before turning sharply and looking directly at Harry. </p>
<p>“Trainee Potter,” She said. Harry gulped, and quickly waved his wand to do away with his concealment. “You may have slipped Trainee Malfoy’s notice, but don’t think for a second you slipped mine.”</p>
<p>“Auror Sharma, I was hoping I could talk to you—”</p>
<p>“I’ll see you next class, Trainee Potter,” she said, “Good night.”</p>
<p>She walked back into her office, and without another word, shut her door. </p>
<p>…</p>
<p>Harry shook his head. He was in bed, staring at the ceiling determinedly, ignoring the soft snores coming from Leo’s side of the room. Too anxious over his interaction with Auror Sharma to sleep, Harry pulled his wand from his bedside table and spelled the ceiling full of stars. He watched them turn and glimmer, tails of light chasing each other across the tiles. He started counting them one by one, feeling his eyes grow heavy from the distraction.</p>
<p>It had been two years since he’d testified in front of the Wizengamot for Malfoy. Since he’d given Malfoy his wand back. Since those first few awkward days back at Hogwarts with the rest of their year, when they were all trying to move on from the War together and pass their NEWTS. It had been a year now, since Harry had stood next to Malfoy as they were inducted into the Auror Academy together, along with the other two dozen or so trainees in their year. And it had been just a few months since Malfoy had found himself back at the Wizengamot, accused of crimes so top-secret not even <em>The Prophet </em>had been allowed to write about it yet. </p>
<p>Throughout everything, Harry and Malfoy had done a spectacular job avoiding each other. Their daily interactions were reduced to curt and clipped conversations when classwork called for it, and brief acknowledgements at formal functions. Harry wondered, for half a second, if Malfoy had any friends at the Academy. But then he shooed the thought away before he could ask himself why he’d care. </p>
<p>A few more stars shot across the ceiling, and the inky blueness of the spelled sky swirled around another cluster of them. Harry watched it spin, let his mind fall into it, deeper and deeper until he could feel darkness and sleep pulling at his lids. </p>
<p> Perhaps Malfoy was a good person now. Perhaps he wasn’t. Perhaps it didn’t matter, because others would always point fingers at him either way. Because unlike Harry, the scars Malfoy bore on his flesh were ones of shame, and not redemption. </p>
<p>He touched the scar on his forehead, which had not pained him since that final battle, and let himself slip into sleep. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading! I am hoping to update every week to two weeks. I have the next few chapters already written so stay tuned.</p><p>A few notes:</p><p>Credit where credit is due -- the Chief Warlock's quote at the end is actually something JK Rowling said: "There is, after all...some unextinguished good at the heart of Draco." </p><p>There will be a lot of World Building in this fic! I've researched what little information there is about the Aurors in canon, but there's a lot to be left to the imagination. So I used the opportunity to take a some creative liberties and design their training/Academy/etc myself.</p><p>This will be a plotty fic, with a slow burn, but Draco and Harry's relationship will absolutely be at the center of it. </p><p>Next up:<br/>The Auror Academy welcomes the trainees back to school!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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